Of course we will.
She launches in without waiting.
“Emphasize charity first in all responses. Smile, but not too much. Neutral enthusiasm. If asked about chemistry, deflect to shared values and the cause. No speculation about feelings, future, or exclusivity.”
Nancy makes a face behind her.
I nod. “Understood.”
“We’ll coordinate date logistics through your email,” she continues. “Location is pre-approved. Photographer will be present for part of it, but not the entire time. We’ll need a few posed shots for social, then candid shots taken from a distance.”
“That works,” I say.
She finishes with, “Great! Any questions?”
“No,” I say. “I’m clear.”
And I am. This world makes sense to me. Visibility. Framing. Control.
She nods once, satisfied, and slips back out like she was never there.
Paige stares at the door. “She just outlined your life like a checklist.”
“That’s what PR does,” I say.
Nancy leans in. “And you didn’t flinch.”
“I know the rules,” I say. “I’ve lived adjacent to them for years.”
Which is true.
But it doesn’t explain the tension under my skin now, the sense that something slipped sideways while I wasn’t watching closely enough.
There’s a knock, then the door opens again.
Two reporters this time, already mid-smile.
“Sloane! Quick question, what drew you to Player Three?”
I answer smoothly. “His answers felt thoughtful. This was about connection and charity, not showmanship.”
“And are you excited about the date?”
“I’m excited to support a great cause and have a conversation,” I say.
“Is this something you’d normally do?”
I smile, just enough. “Normally, I make strategic decisions. This was one of them.”
They laugh like that’s charming.
One of them leans in. “But off the record…”
“No,” the PR rep says instantly, materializing like she teleported. “There's no off the record.”
Nancy snorts.
The reporters retreat, unfazed, and the door closes again.
